Instinct
by TheDramaQueer
Summary: The Trials are over. They're safe. At least, that's what Minho had hoped - But when he and Thomas come to live with Thomas's long lost twin brother, Stiles Stilinski, in Beacon Hills, he quickly realizes that's wishful thinking. [Updates every Friday!]
1. Cat Sweater Savior

The Trials were over.

It sounded like another lie, yet everything that had transpired since Chancellor Page spoke those fateful four words indicated there was truth behind the statement. The subjects that had survived were cleaned up, briefed on the importance of what they'd endured, and offered free transport to wherever their few remaining family members might reside.

Which is how Minho found himself on a train to some small, unimportant town dubbed Beacon Hills with Thomas tucked up against his side. The boy had dozed off against the Asian teen's shoulder and now jostled slightly with each bump and shake of the train cart, leaving Minho to try to brace himself against the movement to minimise the chance of one such disturbance rousing his friend.

How Thomas could sleep, Minho had no idea. Unrelenting unease clawed at the Keeper's insides and kept his dark orbs stapled wide in wakefulness. Sleep was as far off of a possibility as him suddenly becoming a unicorn and flying away on a shucking rainbow.

Well, Minho wished that ridiculous image seemed impossible anyway, but considering that razor sharp fangs had sprouted from his jaws and his eyes had flashed an unnatural shade of luminescent blue whenever someone threatened the snoozing boy leaned against him or had sparked his anger some other way, he honestly wouldn't be surprised at anything anymore.

The scientists at Wicked had tried numerous times to explain to Minho how he was a werewolf - which, newsflash, apparently existed - and how they needed to understand how his immunity to the Flare virus compared to that of a human's but the Asian boy still never really understood. All he knew was that sometimes his nails would decide to sharpen into knife like claws and he felt the constant, unignorable urge to bury his nose in Thomas's neck and sniff him for shucks sake.

It wasn't his fault the smaller boy's scent was intoxicatingly addictive. How could he be blamed for wanting to shove his face against Thomas's skin and inhale him when the kid smelled like sex on a shuck stick? All warm, and sweet, and delicious with the slightest hint of a lemon tang… If sunshine had a scent, it would definitely be Thomas. So, if Minho leaned over and snuggled his nose into his friend's hair occasionally, breathing in that amazing smell in long, deep inhales, then he really wasn't to blame.

The train abruptly came to a screeching, tire squealing, halt during once such instance, leaving Minho to scramble back from the younger teen rather quickly or risk getting caught in the act of his guilty pleasure. However, suddenly removing the other boy's living pillow resulted in him falling sideways for a few dazed seconds before snorting hastily into wakefulness.

"Are we there already?" Thomas questioned lazily, blinking hazel eyes slowly at Minho as if nothing was out of the ordinary and leaving the Asian damn glad his friend wasn't supernatural, because he was pretty sure every werewolf in a hundred mile radius of their little train cart could hear his heart pounding at the moment.

"Don't think so. It's seems a little early if you ask me." Minho replied carefully, refraining from allowing the sneaking fear he truly felt closing in on him from coming through in his voice. Another trial. His mind declared immediately but he bit his lip and remained silent, unwilling to voice the nagging fear. There was no reason to push his paranoid concern onto his friend - Though, the wide eyed, apprehensive look playing across Thomas's face implied the kid had already come to the same, horrific conclusion.

The acidic scent of Thomas's fear tainted his usually welcoming smell as the haze of sleep lifted from the younger teen and he rose to his feet to cast his gaze suspiciously about their surroundings. It made Minho's wolf want to growl and hunt down whatever had caused the change in his mate - friend, he corrected - friend's scent.

Protect. Something primitive in Minho's mind demanded forcefully as he unconsciously edged closer to his companion, hovering around his friend in case he suddenly needed to yank the boy away from danger. It was taking every ounce of self control to keep his eyes from flashing as the last groan of the train stilling could be heard echoing through the empty passenger carts.

Somehow, Minho managed to keep his pointed pair of canines a secret throughout the entirety of the trials and he wasn't about to reveal them now in a brief moment of panic. What if his best friend was freaked out by his abnormality - Minho sure was when he first caught a glimpse of fanged, furred, and fierce in a mirror. Or worse, what if Thomas was scared of him?

Minho's musings were cut off by the sound of something slamming into their cart, sending the whole thing leaning precariously to the side with a dangerous groan before it slammed back onto the tracks.

Glancing anxiously out the window to try and get a look at whatever had hit them, the werewolf caught a momentary glimpse of what looked like a smokey wisp of darkness ghost by the glass before they were hit again, harder this time. He also saw they were on a narrow bridge overlooking an impossibly deep gorge with a rushing river winding through the bottom of it, barely visible from this high up. Shuck.

A scent, almost familiar, but not quite, flooded Minho's nostrils as a startled yelp sprang to his lips and the black wispy mystery threw itself against the train once more, pushing them dangerously close to the tipping point. The Asian didn't have time to consider the oddity however, as he was thrown by the impact, feet skidding uselessly against the slick floor of the cart as his body fell against the far wall. Unsurprisingly, moments later, every ounce of air was slammed from the wolf's lungs as Thomas fell into him, flailing limbs almost clipping Minho in the face as the boy collapsed into him with a startled grunt.

"Get back!" A scratchy but fierce voice demanded angrily as the door connecting the boys' compartment to the other train carts was suddenly thrown open. A short, elderly woman with curly, graying hair pinned back in a loose bun sprang into sight, her light up cat sweater blinking sporadically as she came to an unsteady halt in front of the pair.

For a moment, irritation flared up in Minho as he thought the newcomer was yelling at them but, just as he was about to tell Grandma Crazy off, the woman thrust open a window on the far side of the cart and leaned out.

"What are you doing?" Thomas yelped incredulously from Minho's side before stumbling forward to pull the insane chick back in, honey eyes wide with confusion and concern as he rushed across the room.

"Don't you fret now, hun. Betsie knows what she's doing. This isn't my first trip to Beacon Hills!" Grandma Deathwish declared fiercely as she pulled an old looking burlap sack from her tiny pink purse, the weathered cloth of the thing fraying slightly at the edges and spilling a fine black dust from a few sparse holes throughout.

The way the woman, Betsie, apparently, growled out the town's name as if it were a disease she wanted to stomp out put Minho on edge. He really just wanted him and Thomas to be safe and, with all that had just transpired within the last two minutes, he was really starting to doubt Beacon Hills was going to offer the serenity he so craved for him and his mate - Friend. For shucks sake, his friend. Why couldn't his stupid wolf get that through its head?

"Come get some, ya sneaky varmint!" Betsie howled before bursting into a maniacal cackle as the gray smoke Minho had finally convinced himself he'd been imagining wooshed toward the open window. However, as the werewolf finally got a good look at the creature, he found that it was not just a misty apparition, but rather had a tangible form that the gray cloud of dark matter he'd seen earlier merely trailed. The creature was still moving too fast for the boy to really see any of its features but he was able to assess that the thing definitely had a human shape before Betsie grasped a handful of the black dust from her bag and threw it at the beast.

"Oh, don't worry, Tom, we've been saved!" Minho balked incredulously. "She's thrown dust on it! Now we won't have to worry about it being too clean when it dismembers us!" The teen cried fearfully, throwing his hands up in exasperation as Senile Sue turned to glare pointedly at him, even having the audacity to shake a scolding finger at him with a disapproving scowl written across her wrinkled face.

"Dust! Why, I oughta let it turn you to dust!" Betsie snarled indignantly. "This here is mountain ash, boyo!" Their cat sweater wearing savior hissed, as if that were supposed to comfort Minho in the least.

"Look!" Thomas quipped anxiously before Minho had a chance to bite back a smart response and the Asian turned to see his friend pointing at the window with a single shaking finger, his hazel eyes as curious as they were horrified. The Keeper shifted his gaze to where his friend indicated and his eyes fell on the unknown creature that was now reeling back and squirming uncomfortably as it staggered away from the train.

A high pitched cry rang through the air, the sound reminiscent of someone drawing nails down a chalkboard only amplified ten times over. The monster writhed as Betsie threw another handful of her magic dust in its direction before it hissed angrily and vanished into thin air as if it had never been there.

"What…" Thomas mumbled blankly from Minho's side, fear and defeat evident in his tone . "What was that?" The boy finally managed, sounding more disappointed than anything else and Minho knew why. They were never going to be safe.

"Damn foxes." Betsie merely muttered in reply, obviously not really talking to Thomas as she shoved her burlap sack back into her hot pink bag and began shuffling back toward the way she had came.

"Hey!" Minho snapped irritably as the old woman continued to ignore them and began making her way through the door she had entered minutes ago as the train hummed back to life and began groaning into motion once more. "I've seen foxes, and that, my friend, was no shucking fox! Unless you've got some weird fox steroids circulating your streets!" The teen growled demandingly but Betsie merely turned on a heel to glare fiercely at him, looking far more threatening than a woman her age should.

"Respect your elders, young man!" The odd lady commanded with a huff before beginning to turn around once more.

"Wait!" Thomas tried this time, his voice far more carefully controlled than Minho's. "We just…" The boy began but trailed off. "We've never seen anything like that before and... and mountain ash? We just want to know what the hell happened." The brunette implored, carefully adding a note of pleading to his voice in an attempt to appeal to the stubborn woman - It kinda made Minho want to slam him into a wall and drag his teeth along the pale, sensitive skin of the boy's neck until he elicited that pleading tone from the teen. Shucking weird ass wolf.

"Sonny," Betsie began, her voice and expression softening as she turned her gaze to Thomas. "Ain't nothing I can tell you that's gonna make this any easier." She informed the boy sympathetically and Thomas frowned, the tangy scent of his anxiety flooding Minho's nostrils and making him have to refrain from growling.

"But, I'll write down the address of where I'll be staying, okay? If you need help, you can always come ask me." Betsie offered quickly and Minho almost wondered if she could smell the tormenting aroma of Thomas's unease as well, but he quickly pushed the ridiculous thought away as quickly as it had came.

"That would be great, thanks!" Thomas replied gratefully and Minho could immediately sense his friend's relief, the calming feel of it relaxing the wolf slightly as Betsie scrawled something on a bright pink post-it note. The woman must really love her pink.  
"I have a feeling you're gonna need it." The old woman spoke with a knowing smile as she handed the slip of fluorescent paper to Thomas but her eyes were locked past him, on Minho. How could she know? You're being paranoid. The Asian told himself stubbornly but then he saw Betsie's humor filled old eyes flick to his seat before she turned and left them and when he glanced down to see what had caught her attention he found he'd left long, jagged claw marks in the velvet cloth.


	2. Seeing Double

They were supposed to be meeting Thomas's brother at the corner of a small park on the edge of town. By the time the one way train to hell finally came to a proper stop at the station and the boys made their way to the meeting place, they were practically over the near death experience with the "fox," it wasn't like almost dying was anything new to them.

That didn't change the fact that they were at least 40 minutes late by the time they finally came to stand at the selected intersection, a crowded area of grassy field in which a small ice cream stand sat. Apparently, whichever branch of Wicked had set this up decided that meeting in a neutral, public area would be more comfortable for all parties involved.

Minho thought they must be shucking stupid or perhaps clinically insane. The pressing crowd of people he didn't know made him anything but comfortable and the new, potent scents bombarding his senses, colliding and mixing to form a stomach twisting chaotic mess, kinda made him want to puke.

Thomas didn't look much better, sticking close enough to Minho that their elbows bumped occasionally as his honey eyes wandered over the scene.

There were screaming children being trailed by exhausted parents that called out half hearted scoldings to no avail. Young people stealing shy glances at one another before bursting into small, private giggles. Elderly couples looking on in faux disapproval at their youthful counterparts when Minho could clearly smell their humor and nostalgic affection from a mile off.

All in all, the park was a mess; but at the same time, it was a controlled chaos, and was somehow soothing in the normalcy of imperfection. After living his entire life under constant supervision of Wicked scientists, with their pristine, white lab coats and structured, flawless trials, Minho took comfort in the wildness of reality, even if it was an insy bit unsettling at first glance.

As the Asian boy took in the scene however, he saw no sign of the person they'd come all this way to meet. Supposedly, the boy they were looking for was identical to Thomas in every way, save upbringing; and considering the fact that Minho prided himself on his Thomas-finding abilities, he was starting to doubt this kid was here if his searching gaze hadn't found him yet. Besides, Minho wasn't about to believe anyone could possibly look quite as cute as Thomas, twin or not.

"There's no possible way he's later than us!" Thomas scoffed incredulously from Minho's side, his voice sounding casual despite the fact that the wolf could sense his nervousness as clear as day. Thomas's heart always did this weird, skip-beat thing when he was worried and Minho had long since memorized the pattern that indicated the teen was uneasy.

"Quit fretting, Tommy." Minho scolded lightly, waving his hand through the air as if to shoo away the younger male's concerns as he spoke. "I'm gonna grab us some ice cream. I know your dumbass hasn't eaten anything all morning." The werewolf suggested, ignoring the near irresistible urge to run into the forest, slaughter the first edible thing he saw, and drag it, still bleeding, back for his mate - FRIEND.

"What would I do without you?" Thomas huffed sharply, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips, but Minho merely grinned at the kid's irritability.

"Probably starve!" Minho quipped jovially, swatting his friend lightly in the back of the head with an open palm as he made his way toward the tiny, rickety ice cream stand, ignoring the light shove Thomas threw his way.

It was a rather hot day, the sun beating down on the park relentlessly with the unforgiving heat of midsummer, so the line for the cold treats was quite lengthy. Nevertheless, Minho diligently took his place at the end of the hoard of people and shoved his hands in his pockets, resigning himself to a long wait as the people ahead of him moved incredibly slow.

Minho kept the sound of Thomas's heartbeat in the back of his head every moment he was separated from the boy. The wolf had spent many a miserable night in the Scorch, trying desperately to drain the boy's pain and listening intently to that familiar rhythm when Thomas was shot, as if focusing on it would urge it to continue, so memorizing the distinct cadence of the boy's heart had really only been natural. It gave Minho a way to know his mate - Please, wolf, can't you be heterosexual for two minutes? - friend was safe even when he couldn't see or smell him.

Even as Minho finally came to be second in line and let his eyes wander over the swinging chalkboard menu hanging precariously above the cash register, he kept the sound in the back of his head.

"Can I get uhh…." An elderly man directly before Minho in line began but then trailed off and fell into silence for what had to be at least fifteen shucking minutes. Minho groaned internally and unintentionally externally as he tried to focus on selecting his own food rather than the irritating sloth like nature of the man standing between him and ordering. Minho would like to get back to Thomas sometime in the next century, please.

"Uhh…" The old man continued, before straightening up slightly and putting a thoughtful finger against his chin. The guy began humming softly to himself in thought and Minho thought he would very much like to die rather than sit here and endure this insanity for a moment longer.

However, just as the wolf thought he might snap and quite literally bite the guy's head off, the man finally ordered a cup of water. After all that, a cup of water. Who even comes to an ice cream stand to order a cup of water? Jesus shuck him.

"What size?" A dumb looking boy who couldn't have been older than thirteen working the cash register questioned and Minho would have loved to just punch him in his pimple smothered face as Old Fart picked up another rousing chorus of everyone's favorite song: "Uhhh..."

Finally, years later, Dust Bag made his way along and Minho stepped up to take his place at the front of the line, every ounce of patience drained from him and every nerve on end, leaving him taunt and ready to snap.

"What can I get you, sir?" Pepperoni Face asked in a high, whiney voice that let Minho, and everyone else with ears, know the kid was definitely going through puberty.

"I just want two hot fudge sundaes." Minho sighed, forcing himself to breathe in a huge, calm inhale of sweet air before he spoke.

"My apologies, sir," King of the Pimples droned in a monotone and he obviously pulled out his phone and began texting someone as if he couldn't be bothered in the least by the growing scowl Minho felt his features twisting into.

"Our ice cream machine is broke." Puberty's latest victim informed casually, eyes still on his device rather than his fuming customer.

"You're an ice cream joint." Minho stated blankly, using every ounce of willpower in his body to keep a snarl from his voice.

"Yep." The kid replied simply, the sound of Candy Crush beginning to play noisily from the sleek phone still holding all the cashiers attention.

"And your ice cream machine is…" Minho began slowly but trailed off, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Broken?" The Asian finally inquired incredulously, letting his disbelief and anger be evident in his heated tone.

"Yep." The Walking Acne replied distractedly as the sound of a lost game met Minho's ears and the cashier cursed irritably before finally shutting off his phone and turning to gaze boredly at his customer.

"What the shuck do you serve then?" Minho spat angrily, earning naught but a raised eyebrow and snide snicker from the source of his irritation. The Asian boy really wished he'd walked away minutes ago, but Thomas was hungry and he wasn't about to leave his mate - Jesus shuck - his friend unfed.

"Calm down, man," The idiot scoffed and held his hands up in a mock, pacifying gesture. "I can make you a slushy." The kid offered with a dramatic roll of his pale green eyes, as if making Minho anything was a favor that the Asian should be eternally grateful for. Minho wanted to eternally punch this guy in the mouth.

"Fine. I want two slushies then." Minho huffed exasperatedly, too exhausted to fight such stupidity any longer.

"What flavor?" The Living Pimple questioned blankly, pulling his phone back up to his face with a tired look.

"Strawberry and lemon" Minho replied carefully, silently praising himself for not growling at the kid.

"Now, did you want strawberry and lemon together or..?" The stupid annoyance inquired, leaning his elbows on the counter and not even bothering to look at the steadily amassing line of overheated park goers.

"What do you think numbnuts?" Minho huffed, unsure if he really intended for his words to be heard or not. "I want two drinks, so, it should be obvious." The wolf explained carefully, counting every minute he spent with his mate - God dammit. There really was no point in correcting his idiotic wolf anymore, so why bother? - his mate not in his sight.

"Well, we do offer a tropical lemon, strawberry twist-" The kid rambled off uninterestedly but shut up as Minho slammed his hands onto the counter.

"Separate!" The werewolf practically hissed, fingers flexing to refrain from balling into fists. "I want them seperate, okay?" The Keeper growled out in a curt huff before slowly pulling his hands back from the counter.

"Gotcha, dude… No need to get all huffy." The cashier protested exasperatedly. "What size?" The kid questioned blankly after a long moment of tense silence. Minho wanted to scream.

"Small." The Runner answered immediately, leaning against the white countertop tiredly after such an experience.

Large, Wolfy demanded forcefully, apparently under the impression that it's self-proclaimed mate would starve if Minho didn't feed him surplus amounts of food immediately.

"Large." Minho relented easily, considering this was a relatively small price to pay to alleviate the driving desire to hunt red meat in a public park he still felt.

"And, is that both of them large?" Sir Stupid asked idiotically as he lay his phone face up on the counter and pushed off to finally begin making the drinks.

"Yes," Minho groaned agonizingly. "For the love of all that his good and holy, yes. Both large." The Asian practically cried but he sobered up as the source of his anger began preparing the treats and something on the abandon phone's screen caught the Keeper's attention.

Minho let his gaze drift subtly to the screen while numbnuts was distracted with actually doing his job. "Inexplicable Odd Goings On Plague Beacon Hills - No One is Surprised." The article left open read, officially signing the death certificate of Minho's hope for a peaceful life.

Two identical cups, each filled to the brim with a frothy, pastel liquid were slammed down in front of Minho before he had a chance to mull over the new piece of dismal information and he quickly produced some of the cash Wicked had armed them with before sending them out into the world.

After living his whole life under a teenage made system where no one had anything worth trying to barter or sell, the entire concept of money made little to no sense to Minho, but he wasn't about to complain - The scientists had given the remaining subjects surplus amounts of the confounding currency, as if they thought it was going to make up for all they had done to them.

Just as Minho wrapped a hand around each of the drinks, the chilly feel of the cool cup against his warm skin sending chills over him, something caught his eye. It was almost too quick for the wolf to catch sight of, such a momentary glance that he was practically positive that he had simply imagined it - The briefest hint of a black, ominous aura drifting by him saw only out of the corner of his eye, barely edging his gaze.

Minho would have been sure it was just his overactive, paranoid imagination if the chalkboard menu didn't come crashing down onto the ceramic counter below milliseconds after.

The board splintered and broke into a hundred different, tiny pieces as Minho leapt back from the accident, his dark eyes darting about the scene. Despite his greatest attempts, the Asian was unable to catch sight of the mystery creature's dark matter and not knowing where the thing was was somehow so much worse than actually seeing it.

"Calm down, everyone. It was just an accident, no reason to freak out." Pimple Face soothed the crowd of onlookers in that same, bored voice he'd maintained during he and Minho's whole interaction. The crowd of people didn't honestly seem half as bothered as they should in Minho's opinion as they soon edged back toward the stand after an unnaturally brief moment of hesitation.

"Can we still get some ice cream?" A tall man with scruffy hair falling into his gray eyes questioned after a moment, leaving Minho to watch on, mouth falling agape in shock as the people merely brushed the splintering board out of the way and continued on as if everything were peachy keen.

"No. The machine is broke." Minho barely heard your friendly neighborhood superhero, Pimple Boy, reply as something else caught the Keeper's attention and ripped his focus away from the unsettling events that had just transpired.

Thomas's heartbeat changed, sounding blaring alarms in Minho's head as the familiar rhythm sprang up into the quickened cadence of fear.

The slushies the Keeper had fought so hard to obtain dropped pathetically from his suddenly lax grip and splattered in ruins on the concrete pathway underfoot as Minho darted toward his mate, pushing disgruntled passerbyers out of the way as if they were no more than blades of grass. Both his wolf and human sides agreed on something for once and he sprinted the distance between Thomas and himself, he had to reach the boy immediately and decimate whatever had caused the sudden change.

Thomas's familiar scent flooded the wolf's nostrils moments later but the sweet tones offered no comfort as they were tainted with an acidic bite of fear, which only drove Minho to struggle harder to get to the boy.

"Stiles, where have you been!" The sound of an unfamiliar voice met Minho's straining ears as he finally cleared the last few paces of crowd infested parkland and Thomas came into view. However, the sight was not what the werewolf was expecting in the least as a man he'd never seen before in his life held his friend's wrist captive in his grip, large, strong fingers able to wrap entirely around the limb with ease from what Minho could see.

"And why do you smell weird?" The guy continued dubiously, apparently oblivious to Thomas's obvious bewilderment as the smaller teen stared blankly at the man, muttering out a startled "huh?" but apparently unable to do much else.

The man looked absolutely terrifying to say the least. His dark gray eyes were smoldering with intensity as he stared down Minho's captured companion and his thick, scowling eyebrows seemed more threatening than Gally's, if such a thing were possible. Complete with perfectly trimmed stubble and a jawline one could probably slice themselves on, the dude looked like something out of a magazine. Not to mention the fact that his biceps were bigger than Minho's head for shucks sake.

But did any of this stop Minho from stalking up to Mr. Muscles with a scowl to rival the devil himself, glowering at the hand that still gripped Thomas's wrist? Nope.

"Just who the shuck do you think you are?" Minho spat as he neared the pair, causing both sets of eyes to lock on him, one familiar, honey pair full of relief and the other brimming with distaste.

"His Alpha." Sir Creepo growled angrily and as he spoke his gray eyes narrowed and flashed a dark shade of unnerving, luminescent crimson that was anything but natural.

"Yeah?" Minho snarled defensively, not allowing the display to deter him as he stomped relentlessly closer until he was right up in the guy's face. "Well, I'm his Keeper." The wolf growled dangerously, feeling his own eyes flash momentarily against his will, leaving him grateful he'd gotten close enough only Blood Eyes could see as there was no controlling the reaction when some guy randomly decided to show up and lay hand on his mate.

The mystery man looked momentarily taken aback by the display, as if something about the blue glow of Minho's own orbs had unnerved him but he recovered almost instantly. A low growl began in the back of the dude's throat at the challenge and Minho snarled just as fiercely in response, eyes fixed intently on where the man's fingers still wrapped around Thomas's wrist.

"Hey, Derek, I didn't know if you wanted cherry or…" A new voice suddenly interrupted the stare off as Alpha Asshole immediately snapped his head toward the sound. Intrigued by the sudden, urgent reaction, Minho let his own gaze trail that of his foe's and nearly choked on his own spit at the sight.

There, a few paces from them stood Thomas… But, at the same time, not.

The newcomer had the same hazel eyes, wide and Bambi-ish as Thomas did, coupled with the pale mole speckled skin associated with Minho's best friend. The kid was the same height, had the same build, and even had the same sunkissed brown hair and pink, full lips as Thomas. His scent even resembled Thomas's, warm and bright, with an undernote of tang… But at the same time, it was all different.

Minho smirked to himself victoriously - He was right, twin or not, no one was as cute as his Thomas.

Bodybuilder Big Head looked incredulously at the kid standing a few feet from them, then back at the boy he still held captive in his grip.

Minho took the opportunity to begin trying to pry the dude's steely fingers from his companion's wrist as Thomas attempted to aid him by squirming about in a way that was actually entirely unhelpful in every way, considering it was distracting Minho far more than it was loosening the alpha's grip.

Finally, after a long moment of "Derek," as the Thomas look alike had dubbed him, looking from one twin to the other, then glancing down at Minho who was trying in vain to loosen the deathgrip keeping Thomas still, the guy released his hold on the brunette.

"Oh." The new boy stated softly, his gaze flicking from Derek, to Minho, to Thomas before a amused snort escaped his lips.

"Derek, meet my twin brother."


	3. Curly Fries and Pining Guys

"Where have you been?" Derek demanded anxiously before Minho could process a single moment of the events that had just transpired.

"Huh? To the ice cream stand and back, just like I told you!" Stiles explained in a single breath, looking as confused as Minho himself felt and pointing a finger toward the ice cream shack in case Derek needed reminded of its existence. "But then I didn't know if you wanted cherry or not, because I know you like sour things, 'cause you're a Sourwolf, but I still wasn't sure, because who ever knows with you? Except me. I know with you, but still!"

Stiles rambled on without pause and Minho realized he'd already found the biggest difference between the odd boy and his twin. Though, the Asian couldn't help but wonder that, if Wicked hadn't taken Thomas, if he'd have been just as talkative. The thought brought a pang of sadness and a guilt he had no reason to feel.

Derek probably responded but Minho had long since lost interest in the exchange, his ability to focus impaired by the fact that his wolf kept demanding he run his tongue over Thomas's wrist until he couldn't smell the other wolf's disgusting, lingering scent upon the other boy.

"Well, I guess it's time for meet and greet!" Stiles declared with a clap of his hands, bringing Minho's attention back to reality, where it was unacceptable to mouth one's best friend in any way, shape, or form.

"I'm Stiles, as you may have guessed, I've been told my reputation precedes me," The brunette joked lightly, holding out a hand for Thomas to shake before offering it to Minho.

"And this hunk of man meat is my boyfriend, Derek Hale." Stiles concluded excitedly, making an elaborate gesture with both arms that ended in jazz hands toward the brooding guy who'd had the audacity to actually touch and get his nasty scent on Minho's property. Jesus, his wolf was a possessive shucker, apparently.

Derek Hale merely grunted in response, making no secret about it as he sized up Thomas and Minho, gazing at them both critically, as if evaluating their worth.

"Don't mind him," Stiles assured optimistically. "He may seem like a Sourwolf, but he's actually a huge softie." The teen leaned in and whispered, though his lowered voice did absolutely no good as Derek snorted incredulously at the claim and rolled his stormy gray eyes. Minho could almost swear he caught the man's lips tug upwards just the slightest bit but the stoic, flat look was back in an instant before he could really be sure.

"I'm Thomas," Thomas began easily, his voice light and casual and amazingly not betraying in the slightest the nervous pounding of his heart Minho could so easily hear.

"And this here shank," The Runner continued lightly, gesturing with one hand to where Minho stood at his side, gaze still fixed on Derek and full of distaste. "Is my best friend, Minho." Thomas finished with a winning smile that was doing horrible things to Minho's heterosexuality - Running a bulldozer through it to be exact.

"He's also a hard ass on the outside but a total marshmallow deep down." Thomas added teasingly, letting his humor filled eyes flick to Minho as a smirk pulled at his pink lips and the Asian sent a quick elbow into the kid's ribs.

"Nice! We're totally gonna get along great, I can tell!" Stiles declared optimistically, pausing to throw the two Gladers a cheeky thumbs up and a pleased grin.

The scent of Thomas's relief and happiness exploded in Minho's senses, laying all else to ruin as he reveled in its addictive, blissful sweetness and accepted the fact that he was completely and utterly shucked. Drive that bulldozer, Thomas. Who needs heterosexuality? Not Minho. He never liked girls that much anyway. Shuck girls.

"Well, I for one am starving. What ya'll say we take this little reunion to Arby's?" Stiles suggested eagerly and Thomas immediately nodded vigorously in reply, reminding Minho with a pointed pang of guilt that he had failed to feed his mate. His wolf wanted to whimper. He stubbornly told it not to.

"Great! 'Cause there's an order of curly fries with my name on 'em and they call to me: Stiles, why have you abandoned us? We suffer so without your mouth wrapped around us, just like De-" Stiles began but was abruptly cut off when Derek sprang forward to slap a wide hand over the teen's mouth, smothering whatever lewd comment had been about to escape those pink lips.

"Not another word." The alpha warned in what sounded to Minho like a totally scary, legitimately threatening, voice but Stiles seemed entirely unphased and the Asian could almost swear that the other wolf's cheeks were tinged pink as he finally pulled back his hand with a final warning glare.

"Curly fries..?" Thomas questioned hesitantly after a moment, voicing Minho's own confusion as Stiles's eyes widened to the size of small saucers and the teen sucked in an appalled gasp.

"You've never had curly fries?" Stiles whimpered disbelievingly, gazing at the pair as if they'd just committed a sin far worse than murder as they nodded simultaneously in acknowledgement.

"Come, Sourwolf! To the wolf-mobile! We must cleanse the streets of these unspeakable crimes!" Stiles declared enthusiastically, grabbing Derek by the sleeve and already beginning to haul him along toward the parking lot. How such a lank and skinny boy managed to move that brick wall, Minho had no idea.

"Stiles, no." Derek huffed exasperatedly as he allowed himself to be drug through the grassy expanse of the park.

"Fiinnnee," Stiles groaned disappointedly. "Come, Derek! To the Camaro! We must get these poor, unfortunate souls some curly fries!" The boy tried but his voice lacked it's earlier vigor and he groaned dejectedly.

"Do you have any idea how incredibly boring that sounded compared to my version, Der?" The teen huffed irritably, earning another eye roll from his companion. Minho was starting to think that was their thing - Communicate affection through intense rolling of the eyes. Notes taken.

"Do you want me to ignore the fact that you just got into a growl-off with some guy?" Thomas quipped teasingly, pausing to smirk briefly at Minho before beginning to trail after Stiles's and Derek's retreating forms.

"That would be great." Minho snorted dismissively, secretly immensely grateful Thomas was willing not to pry. Hey, my inner wolf has decided your it's mate and oh, yeah, I forgot to mention I'm actually a shape shifting monstrosity, by the way. Was not actually a conversation Minho was ready to have here in the park, or anywhere else for that matter. Ever.

"Weirdo." Thomas scoffed jovially as the pair hurried to catch up with their new companions, who had made it most of the way across the grassy field and were now beginning to step onto asphalt.

Oh, Thomas had no idea. Minho was a weirdo now? Well then, let's hope the boy never found out about Minho's constant desire to rub himself all over the smaller male to ensure his scent was left on his mate and everyone else would know the brunette was off limits. Yeah. Let's hope he never finds that out, please, for the love of the gods.

"Now, I know you're thinking, 'Stiles, how did you ever get your hands on a total hunk with such a sexy car?'" Stiles began eagerly as he finally came to a halt in front a shiny, rich looking vehicle that looked entirely too low riding too be comfortable in Minho's opinion. "I'd love to tell you, but I honestly have no idea either." The excitable boy admitted with a snicker and a dismissive wave. Derek Hale merely snorted.

"Because I've never been able to find a way to get rid of you yet." The brooding dude groaned in a gruff, gravelly voice that sounded entirely void of humor, as if that were seriously the reason why he was with Stiles but, again, the younger male looked completely unbothered.

"Yep! I practically live under your skin, you couldn't shake me if you tried!" Stiles agreed enthusiastically as he pulled open the door of the car and made an elaborate, welcoming bow toward the back seats.

Minho was starting to believe that Stiles must simply be more fluent in Derek Hale as he never took offence to the cold comments, maybe he could read something in the guy's bushy eyebrows that the Asian couldn't. All Minho for one was reading in their hairy depths as he climbed into the vehicle was, "please trim me, for shucks sake."

Thomas scrambled in after the Runner a moment later, squishing close up against the older boy in the tiny, cramped space the back seats offered.

Minho felt his heartbeat pick up immediately at the contact, a sensation he tried desperately to ignore as Stiles climbed into the passenger seat and Derek moved around the car to take a seat behind the wheel. Though, it was rather difficult to ignore his skyrocketing pulse when their driver had the nerve to catch Minho's eye in the rear-view mirror and shoot him a knowing smirk. Because, of course, the other wolf could hear the Keeper's unobedient heartbeat and had to be a total dick about it. Minho hated this guy already.

"Min, you look like you wanna choke somebody." Thomas informed the Asian as Derek finally stopped being a twat and reverted his focus to slipping a silver key into the waiting ignition and bringing the Camaro to life with a powerful roar of the engine.

" 'M just peachy, Shuckface." Minho assured stubbornly, earning a small eye roll from his friend. Though the quick circle of Thomas's hazel orbs was nothing to Derek's elaborate eye rolls of exasperation in which Minho was legitimately concerned the guy's eyes might get stuck in the back of his head.

"You realize you're an ass, right, Minho?" Thomas grumbled distastefully before pausing to stick his tongue out at the older boy. "And you're as stubborn as one too." The teen concluded with a snicker as their ride began to pick up speed, threading in and out of lanes of traffic as if the other cars were turtles.

"Der-Bear, think maybe you should slow down just an itsy bitsy bit?" Stiles questioned anxiously, his voice at least an octave higher than the last time he'd spoke as his hazel orbs widened drastically.

"You said you were hungry." Speed Racer replied curtly, his smirk practically audible in his tone as he merely increased their speed and Minho watched Thomas's twin's fingernails dig into the expensive leather seat he sat upon.

But Thomas himself had his gaze glued to his window with interest, honey eyes trailing the other vehicles they wooshed by and a slight smile pulling at his full lips as he watched. His smell was sweet with the aroma of contentment and had a delicious edge of excitement to it that Minho would absolutely love to just drown himself in for the rest of his natural life.

Suddenly, the younger boy leaned over Minho to get a look out of the Asian's glass panel, placing one hand on the teen's broad chest while the other rested against the Keeper's right thigh as he threw his body over the expanse of the back seat. "Have you ever seen anything so awesome?" The brunette quipped, supposedly referring to something out of the window that Minho couldn't be bothered to look at at the moment.

"Nope." Minho practically whimpered, his voice coming out much higher than he'd intended as his dark eyes stayed locked on the boy sprawled across his lap despite his command for them to gaze at whatever had caught his friend's attention. The Asian's heart leapt into his throat and his blood was determined to rush lower at the sensation of the other male's hand gripping his leg, so dangerously close to his crotch. Grandma tits. Saggy, nasty, wrinkly grandma tits. Do. Not. Get. A. Boner.

Pin him to a wall, Wolfy demanded eagerly.

GRANDMA TITS. We're thinking about gross grandma tits! Minho countered but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. However, the gods decided to smile upon his tormented soul for once in his luckless life and the car came to a sudden screeching halt a moment later, sending Thomas flailing from his place on Minho's lap and onto the floorboard of the vehicle with a disgruntled yelp of surprise.

"You good, bro?" Stiles inquired quickly, turning about in his seat to gaze concernedly at the boy on the floor, though he himself looked a thousand times more frazzled than Thomas. His hazel orbs were blown wide and his skin looked a good few shades whiter than it had at the park even in the dim light filtering in through the car windows.

" 'M fine." Thomas assured quickly, waving off the other boy as he pushed himself back up and Minho aided him with a hand on his bicep, hauling him upright.

"Next time I'd suggest a seatbelt," Stiles teased jovially but then his gaze turned irritated as he whipped around to glare angrily at their driver. "Since Derek here doesn't believe in speed limits!" The brunette grumbled frantically, earning naught but a playful smirk and yet another eye roll from the alpha in question.

Minho for one was just relieved to be freed from the awkward situation he'd found himself trapped in mere moments ago as Stiles popped open the passenger side door and climbed out with a final huff.

He honestly wasn't sure he could've kept his wolf under control if Thomas had stayed sprawled across his lap a moment longer - Especially considering the fact that he was barely keeping it under control now as Thomas scrambled over the seat to escape the car, putting his perky ass directly in Minho's line of sight in the process and doing horrible things to the Asian's self control.

Finally, Thomas cleared the distance between him and the outdoors and Minho pulled himself out after him, relieved to finally be able to stretch his legs out once more as he came to stand beside the vehicle.

"I could smell your arousal from a mile off, pup. Please refrain from creaming your jeans in the back of my car." A gruff, irritating voice growled softly from behind Minho as Thomas and Stiles began making their way towards the restaurant, apparently too immersed in their conversation about the wonders of a deep fryer to take note of the interaction taking place behind them.

"What was that Stiles was saying about how you were similar to curly fries in that," Minho began without looking behind himself. "What was it again? You both suffer when his lips aren't wrapped around you?" The Asian countered snydly, smirking as the comment elicited a low growl from the other wolf.

Oh yeah, him and Derek were gonna get along just peachy. That was, if the guy didn't rip his throat out in the next five minutes.

Luckily, Derek apparently decided to refrain from dismembering Minho in a fast food joint parking lot, simply deciding to grumble something about annoying horny teenagers instead as the Asian began making his way toward the restaurant after his friend.

The entire place smelled of grease and regret as Minho pushed open the glass door the twins had disappeared into and hurriedly made his way inside after them. The wolf's sense of smell was impaired drastically by the sickening mixture's potent aroma but, nevertheless, he was able to pick out the familiar sweet and tangy scent of his mate almost instantly and hurriedly followed it through the crowd.

Thomas was standing near Stiles at the front of the line, gazing bewilderedly at the menu as if it were written in a foreign language as his brother rambled off his own order to the cashier. The teen's honey orbs were wide with disbelief as he scanned over the options, eyes never resting on anything more than a millisecond.

"Jesus, shuck, I wish Frypan were here." The Runner hissed to Minho as the Asian came to stand at his side, letting his own wandering gaze trace over the plethora of variety. There were sandwiches of every shape, size, and flavor, drinks ranging from lemonade to diet coke, not to mention everything you could possibly think to stick in a deep fryer to boot.

"What can I get for you?" A woman with short, toneless black hair cropped just above the base of her neck inquired in an annoying singsong voice, beaming as if the world had gifted her with every pleasure it had to offer.

"Uh." Thomas stuttered out unintelligently, looking like a deer in the headlights as he stared blankly at the thousands of food selections available.

"If you're unsure, I would totally recommend a Rubin with cheesy fries on the side, or maybe a grilled chicken with tater tots," Misses Sunshine Smiles rambled off excitedly. "But maybe you'd be more of a ultimate fries kinda guy and if you are they go amazingly with our lemonade, but it's a summer special so maybe you shouldn't get hooked on it and should just try-" The girl continued quickly, listing off far too many options in far too little an amount of time for Minho to understand any of it and he eventually stopped listening. Thomas didn't get any of it either if his blank, hesitant stare and utter silence was anything to go by.

"They just want two number ones, okay?" Stiles abruptly intervened **,** shutting up the girl and sending waves of relief over the Asian as the spotlight was taken off him and his friend and he felt Thomas relax at his side.

"You're a lifesaver." Thomas admitted graciously as the small group moved down the line to wait for their order but Stiles merely shrugged off the comment with a humble smile.

"Nah, man. You're my brother, right? So I gotta watch out for you." Stiles answered easily and Minho had to admit he felt a small pang of jealousy. The Asian had recently found out, through an unfeeling report given by an unnamed Wicked scientist, that none of his family had survived the sun flares or resulting virus, which was how he'd landed in Wicked's hands to begin with.

Admittedly, as much as he tried to be happy for his best friend and truly was relieved Thomas still had living relatives, he was undeniably envious at times, even if the fact did make him feel like a slinthead. He wanted Thomas to be happy and his own selfishness sat heavy with the weight of guilt in his chest.

"And you too, grumpy one, you're here with him, right? So you're honorary family." Stiles continued casually, as if inviting someone into his close circle of relatives was something he did on a daily basis.

"Really?" Minho found himself stuttering out, surprised at how hopeful he actually felt as Derek Hale suddenly appeared out of thin air to stand behind a nodding Stiles.

"Sure. You don't have to be blood to be family, like, a pack." Stiles replied eagerly, leaning back into Mr. Appear Out of Nowhere's muscled chest and turning his head up to meet his steely gaze. "Right, Der?" The kid questioned excitedly, entwining his long fingers with those of The Living Beefcake as he spoke.

Derek broke his gaze off of Stiles to glance first at Thomas then at Minho, giving them each a long, hard stare before his lips twitched upwards in one of those weird, millisecond half-smirks that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Right." Sir Broody McShuckface finally replied blankly, earning a giddy smile from the boy still leaning against him.

Soon after, the group's food arrived and they were finally able to grab their meal and take a seat. They chose a booth, per Stiles's request, and Thomas and Minho took one side of it while their companions took the other.

Admittedly, as the group began to devour their respective meals - Stiles moaning like he'd been starved for months as he shoved handful after handful of fries into his face and Derek failing to act like he wasn't blushing at the sound - the Gladers sat a little closer together than the wide expanse of plush seating required. They were in a new place, full of unknown things and potential dangers, and it was honestly unsettling to be hit with so much foreign stimuli at once.

Minho took comfort in the familiarity of Thomas's scent and sticking close to the boy was probably the only thing keeping the werewolf from darting out of the place and hiding deep underground for the next few years. Well, there was that and the fact that Minho's wolf was intent on making sure Thomas ate, as if it were sure the other male was about to keel over from starvation in the next five minutes.

"So, how come you guys were so late this morning?" Stiles asked after a few moments of comfortable silence had passed and every curly fry had magically disappeared from the kid's plate in a matter of minutes - How the shuck was he still skinny?

"Our train was attacked by," Thomas began but trailed off, a look of confusion and concentration coming over his face and distorting his pretty - Wow. Minho really just called him pretty. He was gay. He was so shucking gay - features. "Something." Thomas finished lamely, obviously lacking a better word.

Minho caught Derek and Stiles exchange a quick, knowing look, concern and worry etched all over their faces but he never got the chance to ponder the odd occurrence - Mainly because of the fact that Thomas suddenly let out an absolutely filthy sound that pretty much destroyed Minho's ability to focus on anything else ever again.

Slam him on the table. Wolfy encouraged enthusiastically as Minho whipped around to see what had caused such a lewd noise to pass his friend's lips.

Curly fries. The answer was curly fries. Curly fries had managed to make Thomas moan before Minho - Wait. Was the Asian really getting jealous of deep fried potatoes?

Thomas groaned once more, low and full of innocent ecstasy.

Yes. Yes, Minho was getting jealous of those shucking potatoes.

Thomas had at least five of the greasy things shoved in his mouth and was staring at Minho as if Jesus Christ, Zeus, and Buda themselves had all just sat him down for a nice little chat and had revealed all the secrets of the world to him in that very moment.

"Minho!" Thomas gasped feverishly, barely pausing to swallow the food before gripping the Asian boy by the collar of his shirt and dragging him closer. "You have to try these," Thomas continued breathlessly, sounding more like he'd run a marathon rather than taken a bite of deep fried wonder as he snatched up a fry and shoved it into the Keeper's mouth before the older boy had a chance to protest.

Minho wished he could've experienced whatever sodium filled ecstasy Thomas seemed high on but, with the younger boy's fingers brushing against his lips, tasting wasn't really an option. It was taking every fiber of his being not to choke in surprise as his friend finally pulled his hand back and stared intensely at the Asian, honey eyes boring into him expectantly.

Minho was sure he heard Derek snort somewhere in the background, probably due to the fact that his heart rate had suddenly decided to join the Mile High Club but all he could focus on was trying to force his jaws to chew the morsel as Thomas wanted him to without throwing up everything he'd ever eaten.

"It's shucking good, right?" Thomas pressed eagerly, grinning like a madman as Minho simply nodded in response, not trusting his voice in the least as he swallowed the bite and felt it slide like a pound of lead to his stomach, attempting to catch in his throat at every opportunity.

"Shucking?" Stiles repeated incredulously, one, disbelieving eyebrow quirked and an unconvinced smirk tugging at his lips. That was, until both Thomas and Minho turned to gaze questioningly at him, confusion at the boy's reaction clearly written across both of their faces as Minho shared a bewildered glance with Thomas and felt his own features twist into a befuddled frown.

Stiles burst into a fit of laughter, drawing every single person in the Arby's gaze toward the group's table as he snorted uncontrollably.

"Shucking! Oh, oh my god!" Stiles squawked wildly, holding his stomach and sucking in huge gulps of air in an attempt to reign in his laughter. A few more, sparse snickers escaped him as he leaned into Derek and smacked his hand against the table, biting his lower lip to smother the giggles before he finally straightened up and looked in amused disbelief at the confused boys sitting across from him, pausing to wipe a tear from his eye before he spoke.

"Oh dude, I've got a lot to teach you."


	4. A Not So Hot Homecoming

"Fuck." Thomas repeated for about the thousandth time in the past hour, mouthing over the foreign word Stiles had taught him slowly, as if trying to decide if he liked how it tasted on his lips or not. Minho would love to see what other things those pink lips enjoyed the flavor of - Jesus, could his libido please chill for like, two seconds?

"Give it up, shuckface. You sound like a complete idiot." Minho scoffed teasingly, shifting about on the hard wooden step he currently sat upon.

"That's what you said when I first started using Glader Slang too." Thomas countered defensively, turning to smirk smugly at his companion, who merely rolled his dark eyes in response.

"That's 'cause you did, still do actually. Your Glader Slang sucks, Tomboy." The Keeper informed slyly. "Just admit it, you'll never be as smooth as this fine piece of perfection." Minho continued cockily,gesturing to himself with a long, elaborate sweep of his hand.

"And so humble too." Thomas snorted amusedly before leaning back on the palms of his hands and fixing his gaze to the ceiling. "What if he doesn't like me?" The teen moaned anxiously, his scent picking up a harsh tang of worry that made Minho flinch.

"Thomas, c'mon, he'd have to be dumb not to like you." The wolf insisted resolutely for the billionth time today. If there was anything Thomas had said more than "fuck" in the past five minutes alone, it was this.

The pair was sitting at the base of a wooden stairwell in the Stilinski household, awaiting the eventual arrival of Thomas's supposive father - One, Sheriff Noah Stilinski. Stiles had left them there alone about an hour ago, claiming that he thought he shouldn't be there for such a private moment. Though Minho still caught the teen's scent every few minutes, letting him know the boy was obviously eavesdropping from somewhere nearby.

Minho had thought about leaving too when Stiles had bailed in honor of the father-son relationship that didn't exist yet; but the moment he had risen to do so, Thomas had grabbed him by the hand and yanked him roughly back down at his side. So, here he sat, desperately trying to restrain himself from nuzzling into his companion's side as his instincts told him he should do to comfort his mate.

Thomas opened his mouth, supposedly to reply and not just to invite Minho's imagination on a hormone driven joy ride, but the sound of the front door knob being jostled caused the brunette to snap his lips shut instantly, bringing an abrupt and gory end to the Keeper's fantasy. The smaller male snatched his arm out and captured the Asian's hand in his own instinctually, going tense all over as he gripped the appendage with the force of a vice and practically trembling as his honey eyes widened and focused on the door.

The gesture was probably purely platonic. Thomas needed comfort and Minho happened to have nice hands that easily doubled as convenient, makeshift stress balls, that's all. Even still though, the Runner undeniably felt his lips tug into a small smile and decided it was best to just ignore the tormenting flutter his heart decided to betray him with as he squeezed the younger boy's hand back in reassurance.

Finally, after an agonizingly long pause in which the intruder struggled with the brass knob and cursed in a vivid array of vocabulary Minho would have to get Stiles to educate him on later, the front door was pushed open with a final huff of exasperation and an older looking man entered. The guy had to be at least in his forties and the years hadn't been gentle on him if the deep wrinkles and stress lines maring his face were anything to go by, but yet, his face looked kind and gentle at the same time.

The word trustable came to mind as the man turned his gaze on the pair, his dark eyes full of welcome and warmth as he slowly moved forward a few slow steps. Though, the Asian had learned long ago not to trust anyone, no matter how genuine they may seem. Minho had Thomas and that was enough, thanks. No risk taking here, buddy.

Thomas must've reached a similar conclusion as his steely grip on Minho's captured hand tightened until the wolf wasn't quite sure all of his fingers were still present and accounted for anymore. The smell of the boy's unease rolled off him in waves, crashing over the Keeper and making the werewolf want to circle himself around his mate's small body and shield him from the rest of the dangerous world - Instead the Asian settled for rubbing a soothing thumb along the younger male's wrist and edging a little closer to him, until their shoulders brushed and Thomas leaned back into him in the slightest.

"I'm assuming you're the boys who survived hell, not just two teenagers who were dumb enough to sneak into the sheriff's house?" The guy joked lightly, though his voice was thick with choked back emotion and his eyes were swimming with an odd mix of amazement and sorrow as he locked their intense gaze on Thomas.

"That's us." The brunette clarified curtly, squirming about uncomfortably under the sheriff's stare until he finally rose to his feet, pulling Minho up to stand beside him and never loosening his steely grip on the Asian's hand in the slightest.

"Stephan…" The sheriff began carefully, his eyes suddenly growing misty as the name passed his thin lips, the dark orbs brimming with unshed tears as he took a hesitant step toward the pair.

"My name is Thomas." The Runner asserted hastily, his voice keening up with an edge of panic that made Minho dart out a quick hand and grip the smaller boy by the arm before he could stop himself. Luckily, Thomas instinctually backed into Minho's chest in defense as he spoke, so the whole arm grab thing must not have appeared too weird if the fact that the smaller male was still drawing back into the Asian was anything to go by.

"Right, Thomas." The sheriff corrected quickly, looking momentarily hurt but letting the look fall way to a face of understanding as he held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Thomas and Minho, wasn't it?" The guy continued carefully, turning his searching gaze to Minho as he spoke and offering a small smile of welcome to the Keeper.

The Asian tried to return the friendly gesture but he was pretty sure the action ended up looking more like a pained grimace on him as the sheriff shifted awkwardly under his gaze and reached an arm up to scratch uncertainly behind his neck.

"Well, um, I'm sure you're both tired after your long trip. Those train rides can be a bitch I hear." Sheriff Stilinski mumbled hesitantly, already beginning to move about the foyer they currently stood in as if moving through his usual nightly routine. The guy undid a sleek black holster and placed it on a nearby table, the familiar metallic glint of a gun catching the dim light and shining maliciously from inside the leather carrier.

"Yep." Thomas squeaked hastily, going stiff as a board for some inexplicable reason as his hazel orbs fixed on the weapon, wide and uneasy, as if he half expected it to spring up and bite him in the ass. The boy's scent went sour with a harsh edge of unease and a musky note of something Minho couldn't quite place at the moment, leaving the Keeper confused and curious. The reaction could easily be accountable to the younger male having been shot before but somehow that didn't sound exactly right, though Minho had no other explanation to offer.

"Well, there's a spare room upstairs one of you can use and the couch in the living room pulls out…" The Sheriff began but let his offer trail off as Minho felt a spark of panic ignite inside of him and he immediately pressed closer to his companion, feeling Thomas shrink back into him simultaneously as they both tensed. The thought of being separated from the younger male felt wrong on all levels and each boy's expression must have revealed that for their host relented instantly, looking startled by their strong reaction and waving his hand as if to shoo away his previous suggestion.

"Actually, the spare room has a big bed. You could probably both fit!" The Sheriff offered quickly, looking relieved as Minho's shoulders retreated from the sky high arch they'd shot into and the Keeper felt his friend relax against him, audibly letting out a shaky sigh that did ungodly things to Minho's resolve.

"Okay. Thanks for letting us stay here." Thomas replied gratefully, beginning to turn and retreat up the long wooden staircase but he only made it a step or two away when their host called him back.

"Wait!" The Sheriff yelped hastily, halting his estranged son's departure as the boy moved back to his previous position with a questioning look. "Um," The guy began and took a slow step forward, hesitantly extending his arms and looking imploringly at the teen, an unspoken plea.

Thomas hesitated for a long, tense moment in which no one moved. The Sheriff didn't dare come a step closer to the boy without permission and Minho had no earthly idea how he was supposed to behave in the awkward situation he'd loyally followed his mate into. How many times had the Keeper followed the brunette into insane predicaments now? At least this one probably wouldn't end in half their friends meeting an untimely demise... Hopefully.

Finally, Thomas inched forward a miniscule distance, it wasn't much but it was enough to silently grant the guy his request and the Sheriff absolutely beamed in reply as he moved forward to close the distance between them.

Minho had imagined what a moment like this might be like at least a thousand different times, as any boy who couldn't remember his own parents would. He'd imagined what his father would look like and how happy he would be to have Minho back. The Asian pictured a hundred different ways the grand moment of reunion might look and how his long lost father would undoubtedly pull him into a bone snapping hug with promises to never let anything bad happen to him ever again. Through all the horrors of the Maze, and the Scorch, and the experiments, the Keeper had always held out the slightest sliver of hope for that fantasy moment. Obviously, since all of Minho's family were six feet under, or, more likely, hideous remnants of their former selves, cranked out and feasting on the flesh of their friends, that was never going to happen.

The familiar feeling of a poisonous jealousy leaking into his veins came to call, leaving Minho feeling guilty, and horrible, and envious all at the same time as the Sheriff eventually wrapped his arms around the Asian's best friend and pulled the smaller boy into himself. However, every minuscule ounce of envy drained from the teen as he actually witnessed the scene play out and realized reality was, once again, nothing like his daydreams and vain hopes had promised.

Sheriff Stilinski had pulled Minho's friend so far that they'd actually turned in the process so that now the Asian could see his companion's face as the boy tentatively wrapped his arms around the unfamiliar man. Thomas kept casting the Keeper fearful glances over his father's shoulder, hazel orbs swimming with a long engraved mistrust and guardedness that prevented any actual happiness at the reunion from occurring and revealed the true extent of the damage inflicted upon Minho's closest friend.

Minho growled unintentionally, his eyes glinting momentarily in the darkness before he managed to reign himself back in, not willing to reveal his secret to his friend just yet or ever, if it were up to him. Wicked had broken Thomas. The shattered boy couldn't even enjoy this one, simple moment after all that they'd done to him. Both Minho's wolf and human sides wanted to rip each and every one of those fucker's throats out. (Props to Stiles, for making his unspoken threats sound that much cooler.)

Sheriff Stilinski eventually released his steely grip on Thomas after a long moment of awkward silence and unbroken tension, stepping back from the boy with unshed tears visibly brimming in his dark orbs. "I'm glad your home." The man whispered in a quavering, watery voice before stubbornly biting his quivering lower lip and turning his kind gaze on Minho. "Any you too, Minho, wasn't it?" The man questioned, patiently waiting for the Asian to give a curt nod before continuing. "You protected my son when I couldn't," Stilinski asserted, his voice shaky and emotional as Minho opened his mouth to question how the sheriff could know such a thing.

The wolf was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that maybe mind readers, dragons, and talking bottles of whisky for fucks sake wouldn't be wholeheartedly unheard of in Beacon Hills.

"Don't ask. I can just tell," Noah Stilinski continued resolutely, merely holding up a hand to silence the Keeper the moment the teen opened his mouth. "You followed him here didn't you? Old, I may be, blind I am not." The dude declared surely and Minho finally closed his mouth, admitting defeat with an easy shrug, the man wasn't wrong.

"You protected him and you'll keep protecting him and honestly I'm really glad you're here too, son. You belong in this house as long as he's here." Noah finally concluded gruffly, his voice void of any uncertainty or hesitation as he gazed directly at Minho, dark eyes pinning the boy in their unrelenting confidence.

Minho for one didn't know where the sudden declaration came from, maybe this dude was senile or just always this much of a disgustingly soft sap, but the Asian would be lying if he said the comforting words didn't make him feel the least bit warm inside. Minho was happy he had a place. Minho's wolf was happy someone else was finally smart enough to acknowledge him as Thomas's sworn protector - When he swore that, Minho had no idea, but according to Wolfy he had and would abide by it until the end of his days.

"Thank you." Minho simply coughed out curtly, wincing at how awkward he sounded even to his own ears, but the Sheriff smiled warmly at him before shooting the same kind look to Thomas, who returned it much smoother than Minho's attempt. The boy's return smile looked genuine and made the Asian's heart flutter in a way that reminded him of a cheesy sitcom and kinda sparked the desire to puke inside him. When did he get so cheesy, gods help him? How could one boy turn him into a literal pile of living mush with something so simple as curling his lips upwards? Though the action did also involve making his hazel eyes sparkle like sunlight glinting off a still lake, giving a sweet hint of contentment to his already perfect smell, and relaxing for a brief moment, gifting Minho with the breathtaking sight of his pretty face free of the lines of stress, and… Fuck. Again with the cheese. How did he let it get this bad? Oh right, Thomas was perfect. That's how.

Finally, their host waved them off with a final parting "sleep well," that Minho doubted either of them would actually succeed in listening too as a lifetime of torture and deception tended to lead to a variety of poor sleeping habits. However, the Asian liked to hope that perhaps this new life, in this new place, could offer one of those "new beginnings" people always wanted to promise but never actually happened. You don't just "begin again. " You're still going to be the same old you, with the same old scars, now you're just lying to yourself as well.

Well, a new chapter then. Maybe Minho could hope for a new chapter.


	5. A Rough Night

Darkness engulfed the world as sleep hung over Minho's exhausted mind and drug him down into its heavy, black depths. Sleep sunk it's poisonous claws into the teen and kept him locked in its unrelenting hold, the icy jaws of the beast clamping over his body and keeping him prisoner against his will.

Something was wrong. Minho needed to wake up.

The werewolf fought against the unbreakable grip of exhaustion to regain consciousness as fear settled over his heart and panic began to swell inside him like a balloon filling his chest and threatening to pop if another single ounce of tension dared add itself to the lot.

Thomas's scent exploded in his senses, but it was wrong. Terror soured the alluring smell and the sickening mix was highlighted by that unrecognizable musky tang Minho still failed to place, but it was strengthened tenfold now. The concoction truthfully scared the Keeper and made his wolf want to snarl at whatever had dared threaten his fragile mate, which Minho would totally endorse right now if he could perhaps open his fucking eyes.

Finally, after much more struggle than he would like to admit, Minho roused himself into consciousness with a final groan of effort and opened his dark orbs to the waking world. The wolf was in a large bed, full of billowing white sheets and fluffy pillows his head practically sank into and a pleasant dark, but not smotheringly so, haze rested over the scene.

Minho might've considered it a comforting, relaxing environment - Well, had it not been for the boy beside him sending those nice white sheets into a airborne, tangly mess, that was.

Thomas screamed, the harsh sound ripping from his throat as if drug out by the invisible claws of some horrible beast only the brunette could see before the noise petered out into desperate whimpers of terror that stabbed Minho's heart which was, for some ungodly reason, a thousand times more sensitive when it came to Thomas. Aside from that, the teen thrashed wildly, entwining the sheets over themselves and with his flailing limbs until it was all one huge, complex knot that made his companion dizzy just to look at, let alone untangle.

"Thomas!" Minho hissed urgently, a note of fear lacing his voice despite the apparent lack of any sensible immediate danger as he shrugged off the last remaining tendrils of sleep and struggled up into a sitting position to aid his friend.

Thomas, apparently, was deaf to the world, ignoring Minho's call and still scrambling to escape his invisible demons, letting out pathetic, desperate cries every few seconds that immediately elicited a protective growl from Minho. The sound reverberated from deep in the wolf's chest and forced itself past his lips before he could restrain it as he reached a tentative hand out to touch the smaller boy's shoulder, ignoring the pressing urge to draw his mate into his chest and snarl at anything that dare threaten him.

"Thomas, man, c'mon!" Minho tried anxiously, fighting to keep not only his pressing dismay but also a feral growl from his voice as he felt his eyes become luminescent against his will - Maybe he should invest in a spray bottle for his disobedient canine counterpart.

"Murderer!" Thomas suddenly screeched in horror, the single word ripping from his lips like a razor blade as he jolted straight up, his honey eyes blown wide in fear and every muscle in his small frame going completely rigid for a brief moment as Minho tentatively reached for him and placed a strong hand on each of the kid's shoulders. The younger male looked right past his friend as Minho leaned in closer, his lips curving downwards as he shook the kid slightly and began talking, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Thomas. Hey, Thomas, you're scaring me man." Minho tried in a fear laced voice, gripping his companion's pale forearms and struggling to keep his wolf under control to prevent his claws from popping out and accidentally harming the other boy. "Come back, Tommy. We're safe. I promise." The Asian whimpered, his voice sounding far too desperate for his own liking, but his pride was all but forgotten as the dead stare remained in his mate's hazel orbs, making his wolf practically whine in its panic.

All at once, the trance shattered, recognition alighting in Thomas's honey eyes and his rigid stance laid to ruin as he suddenly collapsed into a trembling mess in Minho's arms.

Minho started at the abrupt change but his sharp instincts and pre-existing grip on Thomas allowed him to react instantly, catching the smaller boy and gathering him up in his arms before the teen could fall against the bed - Admittedly, in moments like this, Minho had to confess that sometimes being a werewolf had odd benefits (Like being able to smell himself on Thomas - No! Bad wolf! Do you have any earthly idea how creepy that sounds?)

"Min, I… I… Newt! He… I…" Thomas sputtered unintelligibly for a moment before his words were lost to horrible, frame wracking sobs that left the boy trembling as his fingers instinctually twisted into the cloth of Minho's shirt and he wailed into the soft fabric, burying his face into the Asian's chest in an attempt to smother the sound.

The mention of the blond sent a searing pang of sorrow through Minho's heart, the sting of losing the final part of their best friend trio still a fresh wound he'd deliberately avoided prodding since they'd last left the other boy at the Crank Palace. Still though, his wolf was too concerned with whatever had his mate so upset to dwell on the dull ache the loss of his friend left for long and he pressed on through the conversation diligently, no matter how bad it hurt.

"What about Newt, Tom?" Minho questioned softly, trying to keep his voice low and soothing as he began to rub slow circles into the clinging boy's back and started to rock the pair slowly, unsure of how else to provide comfort, besides the licking his wolf was adamantly suggesting and Minho was, just as adamantly, vetoing.

"I…" Thomas gasped out frantically, twisting the cotton material still clasped within his steely grip into tight fists that were definitely stretching out the garment beyond the point of repair. However, the boy spoke not a word more as his scent ignited with the horrendously, mindcloudingly sour scent of pure, petrifying, terror and took on that familiar, unrecognizable musky note as tears began to well in his hazel orbs, adding the harsh tang of salt water to the already stomach churning mix.

"Shh… Shh… You don't have too." Minho declared hastily, unsure of what he was promising but willing to profess his undying love to Derek Hale, King of the Assholes, if it made Thomas stop crying at the moment. Both his human and wolf ached at his apparent inability to aid his companion in any way, restrained to simply mumbling soft shushes into brown hair and holding the kid close as the younger boy wept silently, the smell of salt the only giveaway as Thomas buried his head in his friend's chest and didn't make a sound, obviously too drained to do anything but let the tears fall.

Minho could face Grievers, and Cranks, and hazy apparitions that seemed intent on petty crimes like knocking down ice cream stand signs like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum, but he could not deal with this. Thomas was shuddering in his arms, trembling like a Parkinson's victim and whimpering in the smallest, most vulnerable voice every few seconds and Minho could do nothing. It killed him and drove his wolf mad, leaving him legitimately concerned the beast might rip free of his hold and start howling at the moon if Thomas didn't stop making such heart wrenching sounds, preferably in the next five minutes. Minho never had been good at self-control.

" 'M sorry, Min." Thomas finally mumbled after a few long moments of silence in which Minho battled with his inner fanged friend to prevent his claws from suddenly making a grand appearance and tried to focus solely on the boy snuggled up against his chest rather than his desire to dismember something.

"Eh. Not really your fault. You didn't sign yourself up to be someone's tormented lab rat." Minho huffed grumply, praising himself for keeping a low growl from his voice before his own words brought a new question to his mind. Wicked had managed to grab Minho because he was orphaned but Thomas… Well, Thomas obviously wasn't, unless Sheriff Stilinski was just some delusional figment Minho's abused mind had conjured up.

"But-" Thomas began unhappily, obviously sounding displeased with himself, before Minho pressed a finger to his friend's lips forcefully, making a irritated "shh" motion with his own mouth and rolling his dark eyes with a jovial smirk tugging at his lips.

"Talking is only gonna keep me up longer, shank." Minho pointed out teasingly, earning a disgruntled scowl from Thomas who tried to open his pretty pink lips to protest once more only to have the Asian push his finger against them again. "Just get some sleep, yeah? I don't wanna deal with your grumpy, sleep-deprived ass in the morning." The Keeper commanded stubbornly, pulling the boy back into a lying position with him before actually giving his friend a chance to respond.

Thomas groaned exasperatedly but didn't vocalize any other protest as he let his body be tugged down onto the soft mattress once more, never really moving away from Minho as the wolf expected him to as he nestled his head into one of the plush pillows and went lax almost immediately.

Minho thought briefly that maybe he should make an effort to untangle himself from his companion but his wolf was having none of it, apparently still feeling protective of its mate after such a display of vulnerability and the idea was snuffed out almost instantly. Instead the werewolf snuggled closer to the younger boy and greedily indulged himself in wrapping his arms securely around the smaller frame of his mate as he so badly wanted to, his wolf practically preening as Thomas's scent began to lose its acidic edge and returned to its normal intoxicating sweet aroma. The Keeper couldn't help but feel that the change was at least partially due to his presence and close proximity, silently hoping that Thomas read his actions as the silent promise of protection they truly were.

Minho finally started to doze off after many a long moment, focusing on the sound of Thomas's heartbeat growing steady once more and feeling almost high off the alluring smell of his mate so close to him. The boy's scent mingled with his own, essentially ensuring every other wolf that neared the teen would smell Minho upon him and know to back off - This one was already claimed. Yeah. The Asian should probably take some time to think about how weird wanting to leave his smell all over Thomas really was tomorrow; but for now, he couldn't force himself to do so. Nope. For now, this freak was just going to enjoy his guilty pleasure and listen to the slow, steady breathing of his mate, the sound assuring him the boy was both asleep and, more importantly, alive and in his arms.

The brief moment of relaxation only lasted a few short moments however; for as Minho lay in the darkness, a slightly unfamiliar smell invaded his senses and instantly he was alert, eyes flashing luminescent blue in the blackness without the werewolf even bothering to reign them in this time. His wolf was intent on protecting his sweet, vulnerable mate and Minho was in no place to stop it even if he'd wanted too. Surprisingly, the Asian consciously allowed a low, warning growl to pass his lips as he pulled the slumbering boy still held safely in his strong arms closer to himself, totally in agreement with his internal beast that Thomas should be protected at all costs.

Surprisingly, though, the intruder pushed open the door to the room a little bit more, as if trying to purposefully reveal their location to the defensive wolf, who immediately snapped his head toward the sound, fangs extended and bared threateningly.

"I'm not here to hurt your mate." A small voice whispered slowly and Stiles came into view, looking far less scared than he should at the sight of a wolfed-out dude growling at him. "I just heard the screaming and came to check that everything was alright." The boy continued softly, keeping his tone gentle and maintaining the distance between him and where Minho loomed over Thomas, having hoisted himself up to tower protectively over the smaller male at some point he didn't quite remember.

"How did you..?" Minho began carefully, letting the unnatural color slowly bleed out of his eyes and allowing his fiercer features to retreat as Stiles made no moves toward the bed, as if he knew that approaching would only spark the wolf's protective instincts once more.

"Derek used to be the same way," Stiles explained easily, waving his hand as if to dismiss Minho's unspoken inquiry. "Still is most of the time actually." Thomas's twin snickered amusedly, looking fondly at nothing for a moment before seeming to come back to himself.

"Well, congratulations on figuring it out quicker than your brother over here." Minho snorted bitterly, still unsure how Thomas had actually failed to realize the Keeper's feelings for him after all this time. Good gods, Minho had been flirting his fucking face off to no avail as soon as he laid eyes on the pretty brunette back in the Glade. Apparently, Thomas was blind. It was the only possible explanation to his sheer inability to notice the Asian's countless advances. Because friends always get mad at girls for even talking to the other and tell one another "I love you," right? Apparently in Thomas's world they did.

"Yeah. Apparently obliviousness runs in the family." Stiles scoffed lightly before giggling slightly at something Minho wasn't let in on at first. "You should've seen the look on Der's face when I told him I had no idea he liked me." The boy snickered, making a poor attempt to muffle his laughter behind his hand. "He looked like a fucking tomato!" The kid nearly howled in a shrill whisper before giggling uncontrollably and leaving Minho awed that they'd failed to wake up his Sleeping Beauty yet - Wow. Add that to the ever growing list of, "Most awkward things ever thought. Seriously, ever." Also, the Asian could not it any way, shape, or form imagine Derek Hale, the broodiest fucker to ever exist, looking like a fruit of any kind. Let alone a bright red tomato.

"I'm sure he likes you too though, if it makes you feel any better." Stiles assured optimistically, apparently oblivious to the fact that he'd just brought Minho's heart to a complete stop mid-beat at the words. "I mean, he practically clings to you even when he's sleeping." The boy pointed out in explanation, jabbing a finger toward the slumbering teen on the bed beside Minho with a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

Stiles wasn't wrong. Thomas had his fingers entwined loosely in the fabric of Minho's shirt and had wiggled closer to the Asian in his sleep, a frown now playing on his cute little lips as Minho still had his body raised protectively over top of him rather than where he had been. The brunette had moved to the location the Keeper had been at moments ago and stretched slightly in his slumber in an attempt to reach the wolf in his raised position, a small whine escaping him when he was unable to do so.

"Do you know a single thing about mate bonds..?" Stiles quipped after a moment of silence in which Minho let his body fall back to the mattress and Thomas instantly squirmed up against him, sighing contentedly when he was able to wrap his lanky arms around the wolf and basically liquidizing the Asian's heart for good.

"About what?" Minho practically yelped, flushing instantly and jumping slightly at the question, which earned a displeased groan from Thomas, as if the kid were unhappy his pillow couldn't seem to sit still for more than three seconds at a time.

"Uh huh. Yeah. That's what I thought." Stiles hummed amusedly, grinning giddily as if he somehow enjoyed the torment he forced the wolf through as he leaned back on his heels and gripped the door in his hand. "I'll take you guys to see Deaton tomorrow. He's a good dude, should be able to help you." The brunette declared easily and began to swing the door closed despite how confusing and full of unanswered questions his last sentence had been but abruptly he paused, looking distant and forlorn all of the sudden.

"He seems to suffer a lot." Stiles began slowly, his hazel eyes almost cloudy in a way as they locked on Thomas but Minho merely blinked in confusion before tentatively nodding, unsure of where this was going. "Just…" The boy continued through gritted teeth, as if struggling with something before awareness finally lit in his amber orbs once more. "Just be careful, okay?" Stiles finally concluded hastily but pushed the door the remainder of the way closed before Minho could even begin to think of a response to such an off and unexplainable statement.


	6. Ten

Warm sunlight filtered in through a small square window on the far side of the room, slightly diluted by pale blue curtains that hung over the glass in huge, sweeping folds and casting a welcoming glow over the scene. The soothing scent of Thomas, so familiar and intoxicating, filled Minho's head and chased away any concerns that dared interrupt his momentary bliss and he unconsciously tugged the slumbering boy closer to himself, reveling in the warmth and weight of the younger male pressed against him. The sensation assured the wolf his mate was safe and happy, which was honestly such a incredibly uncommon occurrence that Minho would probably wear a tutu and pursue a life as a world famous ballerina if it meant he could see his Runner like this more often.

Minho snuggled in closer to the warm, snuggly brunette, too tired to deny his wolf nor really feeling the desire to do so at the moment as Thomas instinctually wormed further into the Keeper's chest. The Asian found himself wistfully imagining this truly was their life, that sleepy mornings and soft beds were something they hadn't been so cruelly robbed of and deprived the entirety of their youth. Minho closed his dark eyes and, just for the briefest of moments, let himself pretend that this is what their early hours always consisted of, waking tangled in one another's arms and reaping comfort in each other's presence. That they could be safe and happy.

Maybe, in that world, Minho would gently press his lips against Thomas's, which had fallen open in the brunette's slumber, and let them linger there until the other male would open his honey eyes and gift the gray, dismal world with one of his vibrant, perfect smiles, making the whole universe just that much brighter. Maybe, Minho would feel those perfect pink lips curl up against his own and Thomas would card his fingers through the Asian's hair to pull him closer, letting his golden orbs fall closed once more as he kissed the wolf back and his already amazing scent would sweeten with the smell of happiness - And it would all be thanks to Minho.

In this world, however, Thomas was woken, not by a passionate yet chaste kiss, but rather by Stiles bursting unceremoniously into the room with a still sizzling pan clasped in one hand and a pot of steaming coffee in the other, some of the dark liquid splattering to the pale carpet lining the hallway and leaving stains that would undoubtedly withstand a nuclear meltdown, let alone just the thorough bleaching that they would likely be subjected to.

"Rise and shine!" Stiles announced at least fifty decibels higher than Minho was prepared to endure this early in the morning, leaving a horrible ringing echoing through his head as Thomas groaned to life at his side and tried to bury his head further into the wolf's muscled chest. Minho would slaughter to allow the smaller boy to stay nestled up against him, actually sleeping for once rather than screaming bloody murder, and Stiles was looking increasingly like the perfect sacrifice if that's what it took.

Yeah. No. Bad idea. Minho wasn't looking to have his throat ripped out by some half crazed monstrosity driven by a justified bloodlust today, thank you very much. The Asian was only a Beta after all, and Stiles was an Alpha's mate.

"What?" Thomas groaned dazedly, honey eyes blinking up at Minho and full of a sleepy haze that made him look downright adorable by any sentient creature that possessed the sense of sight, especially the wolf propped over him who was practically biting his lip to refrain from cooing at the sight and laving the brunette's face with his tongue as he so badly wanted to.

"Stiles has so kindly graced us with his presence." Minho informed his companion irritably, shooting a pointed glare at the unwanted intrusion that had so rudely woken his finally resting mate.

"And brought breakfast!" Stiles merely added enthusiastically, apparently blind to the werewolf's irritation or, more likely, just choosing to ignore it as the boy held his items out as proof, practically beaming with pride.

"Dude, you didn't have to!" Thomas started quickly, snapping into awareness almost immediately and shooting up into a sitting position, painfully smacking his forehead into Minho's as he did so before falling back to the bed with a startled yelp.

Minho groaned in pain, rubbing his battered skull momentarily before his wolf instantly became more concerned with Thomas, who let out a similar moan and squeezed his hazel eyes shut as Stiles laughed wildly somewhere in the background, practically inaudible to the werewolf's selectively focused senses that were too preoccupied with the brunette on the bed to even notice anything else.

"You're a stupid shank, Thomas." Minho huffed gruffly, glaring down at his companion in faux irritation as he spoke, swatting the teen over the head with an open palm and pretending to be a lot more irritated than he actually was. Secretly, the whole act was just a way to distract the Runner and ensure he wouldn't glance over at Minho's arm - In which the veins happened to be turning an unhealthy shade of black at the moment. Even if his mate was only in the slightest amount of pain, his wolf was adamant the discomfort must be amended and the Asian had no qualms about pulling the small dosage of hurt from his favorite human, even if it did send a mild wave of ache through his own body.

Thomas stuck his tongue out defiantly at the older boy just as Minho pulled his arm away. Satisfied that the brunette was properly cared for, the Asian heaved himself up onto his elbows and rolled his dark eyes at his friend's antics before pushing off the mattress, though he couldn't stop a light smirk from tugging his lips upward as he did so.

"Finally!" Stiles huffed exasperatedly before turning on a heel and retreating from the room, apparently convinced his companions would follow soon after.

Thomas groaned and propped himself up onto his elbows, blinking as if trying to clear the sleepy haze lingering about him before his pink lips parted in a wide yawn that only left him looking more exhausted than before. "He really didn't have to make breakfast!" The teen whined to Minho, his voice keening up anxiously the moment his twin had departed and the sleepy boy reluctantly drug his lanky body from the sheets and plopped his feet onto the cold wooden floor below with a noise of displeasure.

Immediately, the teen sprang back into the plush bed, the springs inside the fabric bouncing at his returned weight as the kid stared at the floor as if it had sexually harassed him, drawing back into the sheets and eyeing the floorboards with wide, startled orbs.

"Yeah, well, he really didn't need to wake you up either." Minho retorted iritably but his displeasure fell way to an amused snicker at his bestie's antics. "The floor is lava?" The Asian quipped snarkily, cocking one eyebrow and smirking at the brunette who merely flipped him the middle finger and made no moves to return to the ground, shuffling further away from the edge of the bed if nothing else.

"It's cold, slinthead!" Thomas hissed angrily, extending one, long leg over the mattress to poke a single toe against the wood, as if he expected the temperature to have magically changed in the past three minutes, which honestly wouldn't have surprised Minho too awful much at this point. No, the Asian had long since stopped being surprised by anything.

The wolf's ability to be shocked dissipated sometime right after Thomas came up in the Box and Minho suddenly constantly found himself wanting to rub his body all over the other male while simultaneously running his tongue over the kid's face to express his undying affections.

The second Thomas touched the digit to the floor below, he yelped dramatically and drew his limb back into himself before shuffling back further onto the mattress, casting his horrified gaze on Minho as if he were some kind of monstrosity, which he actually totally was but Thomas didn't know that. Hopefully.

The Asian had just started to feel his own face in search of any protruding fangs, a feeling of dread coming to swallow him whole when Thomas finally yelped, "How are you barefoot right now?" His voice full of disbelief and awe, apparently totally unaware that he'd just lopped three years off the Keeper life as his hazel orbs stared accusingly at Minho's feet, as if they'd somehow offended him.

" 'Cause some of us aren't pony loving sissies!" The Asian groaned exasperatedly, running his hands over his face in a show of irritation and totally not to hide the fact that he'd just been searching his jaws for canine features.

"Yeah, well, some of us actually have feeling in our toes, Min!" Thomas bit back fiercely, still sounding totally thrown for a loop by the Asian's ability to simply stand in a room that barely even felt chilly if you were asking the werewolf.

He's totally impressed with us. Minho's wolf practically preened, feelings of pride and satisfaction surging through the Asian boy despite his intense desire to roll his eyes at the simple things his wolf seemed just enthralled by.

"So are you just gonna sit there and starve then, shank?" Minho teased with a smirk, snickering to himself slightly as Thomas seemed to consider this for a moment, his gentle features contorting into a thoughtful face, before the brunette merely groaned and flopped back onto the puffy mattress in defeat, sending a few folds of the tangled sheet drifting into the air momentarily before they came to fall back onto the boy.

"Woe is me! I shall wither away here, I suppose." Thomas moaned dramatically, bringing his hand up to his face to press against his forehead in faux despair as he stretched his lean body over the blankets to communicate pure agony. "Oh cruel world!" The Runner wailed sarcastically, stretching an arm up to grasp desperately at air and arching his back off the mattress with the motion before he let everything go lax and collapsed back against the plush sheets, closing his eyes and making a comical "blech" sound of death.

Minho felt a warm laugh begin to rumble in his chest and bubble up through his parted lips for the first time in awhile and, god damn, did it feel good. The familiar surge of humor endorsed happiness and endorphins exploded in the Asian's mind, momentarily numbing him to the cruelties of the universe as he wheezed in huge breaths only to lose them in poorly contained snickers once more as he practically doubled over.

What's more, was that Thomas had reopened his perfect, honey hazel orbs to watch the wolf, a look of awed fascination written across the brunette's face as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look, leaving subtlety in the dust as a smile spread his own pink lips and a light giggle escaped him.

The endearing sound shoved a one way ticket to "you're so fucked-ville" into Minho's heart's eager hands and it hopped the train without hesitation as its owner's laughter was reignited by the small noise.

Of course, Minho's second round of breathless wheezes sent Thomas over the edge into his own fit of hysteria, as the younger male failed to smother his own snickers with a hand clasped over his pretty mouth. "What? It's true!" The brunette protested defensively, though the words lacked any bite to them whatsoever as they were sporadically gasped out between poorly bit back giggles. "I could starve!" The teen informed the Asian curtly, attempting to shoot his friend a pointed glare only to lose the look to a wide grin almost instantly as his words caused Minho to laugh harder and the Keeper's snickers started his Runner's laughter all over again.

"You're so dramatic, Tomboy!" Minho groaned breathlessly, moving across the room to lightly shove the boy off his unstable, elbow propped perch, leaving Thomas to merely squeak out a useless protest as his body immediately flopped onto the bed with no resistance.

"I'm totally serious!" Thomas countered angrily before the boy suddenly reached out and grabbed Minho by both sleeves, yanking him forward roughly and sending the Asian face first into the mattress with nothing but a startled "oomph" as he was caught off guard.

"Oh, you asked for it now, Tommy!" Minho growled deeply into the bedding, trying to keep the childlike excitement he felt welling up inside him from his voice as he sprang into action, shooting straight up before Thomas would even have a chance to process his declaration of war.

The Asian barreled into the startled boy before the smaller male could even have an opportunity to defend himself, sending them both rolling as the attacked brunette regained his senses and struggled to try and fight back.

Thomas managed to use the momentum of Minho's charge to keep them rolling as the Asian tried to pin the Runner but was knocked ajar by the force of the wily teen turning with the already existing line of motion. The smaller boy took his chance the moment he got it, instincts nearly as sharp as his companion's and reaction time just as high tuned as he tried to use the weight of his body to press the Keeper into the mattress in an attempt to stay on top, pressing his hands into the wolf's chest and dropping the entirety of his body mass over the older male.

It was adrenaline alone that kept Minho from simply letting himself loose this time, enjoying the feeling of Thomas's body attop his far more than he probably should in their strictly platonic kinsmanship that his wolf had already all but abandoned, dragging Minho along with it for the ride. However, the Asian managed to convince himself to retaliate rather than focus on the fact that Thomas's hips pressed his own flat into the mattress for a moment longer, too fearful morning wood would make a guest appearance if he didn't do something (Unfortunately, probably not Thomas) quick.

Thomas may have been slick and clever, but when it came down to it Minho was of a more muscular build - and had supernatural strength on his side, though even he would admit that was an unfair advantage and really did attempt to restrain it during their play fights - so he could essentially overpower the younger boy no matter what the circumstances may be. Which was how the Asian managed to grip the pale, mole speckled muscles of his companion's biceps and flip them easily in one, smooth motion, giving himself the upper hand once more.

But if Minho had been stupid enough to think for one, idiotic second that pinning Thomas to the bed would help alleviate his dick's desire to rise up and join a revolution, he was so, unbelievably wrong.

The Runner lay panting helpless under his hands, Minho's fingers easily wrapping around the brunette's thin wrists to prevent any sudden ideas from entering his cunning thing's little head and keep him in place better. The boy's cheeks were flushed rosy red with effort and his pale pink lips fell open to breathe in tiny, feverish gasps of air as he let his head fall back on the mattress in defeat, leaving his pale, mole speckled neck on full display.

Bite. Claim. **Mine**. His wolf growled desperately, practically snarling the sporadic thoughts as Minho was driven wild by the display and accessible, submissive, position Thomas had let himself fall into, as if completely accepting the fact that he'd been defeated and wholeheartedly trusting the boy above him to not harm him even when in such a vulnerable pose. It was bad. The desire to leave his mark on the gorgeous, captured boy below him was so strong it felt as if someone had taken a torch to Minho's body and lit his blood itself on fire and the Asian honestly wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly burst into roaring flames on the spot. It felt like he already was.

Truthfully, Minho probably would've given into the seering urge if it weren't for the sudden sour edge his precious mate's scent took, instantly bringing his heat filled thoughts and steadily rising boner to an untimely demise as concern slashed through all else and brought the werewolf careening back to reality.

Thomas's eyes were wide and scared but yet so distant at the same time, as if the boy were somewhere, not safe on a bed under Minho who would rather die than hurt him, but someplace far worse. The acidic smell of fear tainted the younger teen's sweet smell as he struggled weakly against the steely grip the Asian held him in, which the Keeper immediately released, that same musky scent the wolf still failed to place hitting him like a Mack truck.

"I can't!" Thomas pleaded desperately, leaving Minho confused as hell and absolutely terrified as he scrambled off the smaller male and frantically gripped the Runner's forearms instead. The werewolf had assumed his companion had become upset because Minho had taken it too far, freaked his friend out or something similar the Asian was totally likely to do at some point, but it was quickly becoming apparent that wasn't the case as Thomas let out a low wail and curled in on himself.

"Thomas! Dude, please!" Minho cried anxiously, shaking the other male slightly in an attempt to bring him back to reality but it wasn't working this time nor was talking to the teen doing any good. This wasn't like last night where Minho could simply wake his friend from whatever nightmare he was trapped in and hold him close until he realized it wasn't real, that all his visions were simply dreams, nothing more. Thomas was already awake.

"Show him your hands!" Stiles's voice practically screamed in Minho's ear, but the wolf still barely heard the confusing words over the panic induced ringing blaring through his skull and drowning out anything that wasn't Thomas-related.

When the fuck had the twin gotten there? Admittedly, with his focus rapt on the now trembling boy in his arms, Stiles could've probably stood by for hours, perhaps have time to paint a portrait of the scene, and Minho still wouldn't have noticed his presence.

The Asian always had been very single minded - Especially when it came to Thomas. Let's not forget the multitude of times Minho had risked himself and quite often the whole group of remaining Gladers on impossible rescue missions on account of one boy when he could count the other's deaths off like apples in a barrel.

"What?" Minho growled, literally, snarling at the kid, though he hadn't intended to do so and would probably have the decency to feel bad about it later when the most important person in his life wasn't lost to some imaginary horror and crying out a steady chant of "I can't" in a desperate whimper that all but shredded the wolf's heart.

Stiles merely rolled his eyes and snatched Minho's hand's from Thomas's arms, manhandling the appendages in front of his terrified twin's face while the hand's owner was still too shocked at the sudden action to do a single thing about it. "How many fingers?" The lanky boy questioned, his voice all but a gentle whisper as he pressed his thumbs into the palms of Minho's hands to make them spread out, revealing all ten digits to Thomas's confused eyes as their hazel orbs scanned the expanse of his friend's spread hands.

"Ten." Thomas eventually whimpered out, finally breaking his unrelenting chorus of "I can't" to answer his brother's odd question though he still looked confused and just as horrified as he had moments ago, convincing Minho Stiles's plan was officially stupid, whatever it may be.

"Then he's really here. You're here. Safe." Stiles explained, as if the number of fingers Minho owned somehow affected Thomas's ability to realize he wasn't in whatever mind wrecking memory he kept getting pulled into. "If you were somewhere else, just imagining all this, the number would be wrong." Stiles continued and, amazingly, Thomas began to shake a little less, his hazel orbs wide and full of such a pure hopefulness that Minho physically hurt at the sight. "But there's ten, so he's real." Stiles concluded, pushing Minho's hands toward Thomas who tentatively reached out his own fingers until his twin placed Minho's captured apandages into the kid's steely grip and the brunette wrapped his own hands around them instantly, clinging to the Asian like a lifeline.

"That used to be all that worked for me too." Stiles finally admitted in a whisper after a long moment, giving Minho a sad look before he tentatively rose to his feet and moved back toward the door. "I'll keep breakfast warm, just come down when you're ready." The teen informed diligently before taking his leave, pausing briefly to shoot the stunned Asian a quick, mock salute that the Keeper barely even saw out of the corner of his eye as his gaze locked on his broken mate.

"Thomas." Minho whispered quietly, not knowing what else to say as the boy lifted his head to blink at him, hazel orbs swimming with grief and guilt as the Asian reached out to brush a stray hair away from their endless depths.

"Minho, you shouldn't have to put up with this." Thomas bit back, sounding surprisingly bitter as he turned his gaze away and began gnawing anxiously at his lower lip, his usually alluring scent smothered with sadness and practically choked out with that musky note… That musky...

Guilt. The smell was guilt. The realization finally came to Minho like a bowling ball straight to the stomach, thrown by a sasquatch that was. Thomas felt guilty for pushing his problems onto Minho as if that wasn't exactly what the Asian was here for and would absolutely die to be the one Thomas went to with his burdens and leaned on for support. No, literally. Give him a knife - Minho would die for that opportunity in a heartbeat.

"Shut the fuck up, Thomas." Minho snorted roughly, though he emphasized the harsh words with a comforting squeeze of his hands, which were still captured in his companion's unrelenting hold with the strength of a thousand manly, lumberjack commercial type men.

Luckily, Thomas's scent did lose some of its acid edge at the Keeper's words, as if the other boy could read all the things Minho didn't know how to say as clear as day and it was all the Asian needed to feel proud. He would protect his mate and keep him safe no matter what, even if the threat was inside the brunette himself. Minho would be there to chase anything that threatened his boy away. Always.


End file.
